


The Companion: Midnight

by RaeOfSunshine524



Series: The Companion [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: but i'm working on both of them at the same time, so it might be a bit confusing at first...., this is the second work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeOfSunshine524/pseuds/RaeOfSunshine524
Summary: Emmie Tate and the Eleventh Doctor have changed, regenerated. The Doctor and the Cursed Companion have new bodies, new faces, new voices. Same software, different case.
Relationships: depending on what my brain decides, that's going to change as the story goes on
Series: The Companion [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670563
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Companion: Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Elevenses was wiping me out a bit and I still wanted to write Doctor Who so I've just decided to work on another part of the story at the same time  
> It's late (it's always late when I write for Doctor Who) so please point out any mistakes I might have made!

** There’s a loud knock on the TARDIS door. **

“Hello? Exit the box, and surrender to the glory of the Sontaran Empire.” a voice calls from the outside. I hear the door open, and another voice shushes the first before the door closes again. “Doctor?” the first voice asks. I think I know that voice. I push myself up onto my hands and knees, use the TARDIS control panel to pull myself up to my feet. My head feels foggy. I’m not quite sure who I am. _Regeneration. New software, different case._

“I was being chased by a giant dinosaur, but I think I’ve managed to give it the slip.” I don’t recognise this voice, but somehow I know exactly who it is.

“Doctor.” as I say the word, I feel his energy leeching into my brain. He’s still hyper off the regeneration, but he’s bound to pass out sooner or later. He always does. He turns from the door at the sound of my voice and hauls me to my feet.

“Ah. You. That one. There you are again. What are you doing on the floor?” he asks. He looks so much older. Grey and lined. His voice has changed.

“Doctor.” I say again. My voice has changed too. I feel taller. I _am_ taller. The Doctor stands there for a moment, his hands on my arms. Then he turns and goes to the door again almost immediately. He pulls it open slowly, just far enough to poke his head out.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

“Sir?” the first voice I’d heard asks, clearly confused. The Doctor opens the door all the way and steps out, listing dwarves,

“Bashful? Sneezy? Dopey?...Grumpy”

“Strax.” I say, stepping out of the TARDIS. Strax looks at me, but he doesn’t recognise me. Of course he doesn’t. Regeneration does that.

“Oh, you two.” the Doctor says, striding towards two people who are standing several feet behind Strax. “The Green One and the Not Green One. Or it could be the other way round, I mustn’t pre-judge.”

“Madame Vastra. Jenny.” I say, nodding to them.

“Oh, you remember, uh…thingy. The, er, the not-me one.” the Doctor says, pointing at the TARDIS. “Not that one.” he adds, using his other hand to point at me, “The asking questions one. Names, not my area.”

“Clara!” Clara tells him, as if she’s explained this to him many times, which she might well have done and I’ve just forgotten.

“Might be Clara, might not be, it’s a lottery.” the Doctor says.

“It is Clara.”

“Well, I’m not ruling it out. Oi, big man, shut it!” he shouts the last part at the T-Rex that seems to be in the Thames. Huh. “Oh! You’ve got a dinosaur too!” It roars at him. “Big woman, sorry.” he apologises.

“Doctor, listen to me. You…you need to calm down.” Clara tells him, darting out of the TARDIS.

“I’m not flirting, by the way!” he calls up to the T-Rex.

“He’s fine. He’ll pass out and have a sleep.” I tell Clara, then stop abruptly and repeat myself. “Oh dear Lord, I’m Irish.”

“I think something’s gone wrong.” Clara says, either not hearing me or ignoring me.

“Wrong? What’s gone wrong?” the Doctor asks, whirling around. “Are you alright?” he adds, and he’s looking at me now. “Have you regenerated?” he asks Clara, pointing at her. “I remember you. You’re Handles! You used to be a little…a little robot head, and now…you’ve really let yourself go.”

“No, Doctor, that was your Cyber-head.” I tell him calmly, catching his arm as he tries to go back to the river. He’s looking at the dinosaur again.

“Reduce the frequency.” he hisses.

“I’m sorry?” Vastra asks.

“Your sonic lanterns, turn them down!” the Doctor says. The dinosaur makes another noise between a growl and a groan, and the TARDIS translator kicks in.

“You’re giving her a headache.” I tell Madame Vastra.

“Givin’ who a headache?” Jenny asks.

“My lady friend!” the Doctor shouts it as if to say it to Jenny and the T-Rex at the same time. The latter roars. “Just an expression, don’t get any ideas!”

“How do you know?” Strax asks.

“Come on, Clara! You know that I speak dinosaur.” the Doctor says, breaking away from me.

“He’s not Clara, I’m Clara!” Clara tells him, still sounding a little angry. The Doctor looks between the two of them.

“Well, you’re very similar heights. Maybe you should wear labels.” he pauses, and then, more confused than ever, “Why are you all doing that, why…why are you all going…dark? And wobbly? Stop that.”

“I don’t think we are.” Clara says.

“Remember that passing out thing I was talking about?” I ask her, “This is it.”

“Never mind! Everyone, take five!” the Doctor shouts, just before he blacks out and falls into the arms I’m holding out for him to prevent him from falling face-first into the mud of the banks of the Thames. Clara rushes forward.

“What do we do?” she asks me.

“We wait.” I tell her.

“I don’t understand. Who is he?” Jenny asks, “Who is she?” she asks, looking at me, “Where’s the Doctor?”

“Right here.” Clara tells her, gesturing at the limp Doctor I’m holding. “That’s him. And Emmie…”

“Me.” I say. Though I’ll need a new name. I always change my name after regeneration. There’s a brief moment of silence before Madame Vastra speaks.

“Well then, here we go again.”

***

** “Emmie, can you explain your appearance?” ** Madame Vastra asks, surrounded by her plants.

“Well, as you know, when I met the Doctor I was cursed to always be with him, to feel his pain and fear and so on.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, I thought when he regenerated I would die. I was only human after all, but-“ I stop when Madame Vastra holds up a single finger.

“Was, milady?” Jenny asks.

“This implies you are no longer human.” Vastra adds.

“I’m not.” I state simply. “I regenerated with him. I have regenerated every time he has ever since.”

“But that is impossible. You are not a Time Lord.”

“But…but I am. During his last regeneration, his last life, I started to change. I could remember Gallifrey. I hold the Doctor’s memories of it. And…I was becoming less and less human every day. My very DNA was changing. I grew a second heart. I…I’m a Time Lord now.” I try to explain it as best as I can.

“Dear Lord.” Vastra whispers. “Jenny, fetch Strax, he shall perform an examination.”

“Yes, madame.” Jenny nods, sweeping out of the room.

“Emmie-“ Vastra starts, but she stops when I shake my head. “What is it?”

“I can’t be called Emmie anymore, Madame Vastra. I take a new name each time I regenerate.”

“How many times?”

“This is my third.”

“What were your names before?” she asks gently.

“Lillian was the name I was born with. The Doctor called me Lily. He thought it was funny, a Lily and a Rose. When I regenerated he named me Roberta. Bobbie. Amy Pond named me Emily, and the Doctor shortened it to Emmie. He always shortens my name. It’s quicker to say if it’s shorter.” I answer. I hesitate for a moment before asking, “Would…would you give me a name?”

“Of course.” Madame Vastra answers. She thinks for a moment, studying my brand-new body and face before deciding, “I will name you Katrin.”

***

** I’m not sure if it’s the Doctor or the TARDIS helping me understand the dinosaur as it moans and groans. ** She’s sad. So, so sad. She’s alone in this world, she doesn’t know it. She wants to go home. I can hear the Doctor’s voice, muffled through the door, mumbling. In his sleep, probably. Probably. I’m pacing up and down past the door. Clara is downstairs, talking to Madame Vastra. She can’t quite seem to understand that the Doctor is still the same. He just has a new body, though it looks so old. _Same software, different case._ There’s a mirror on the wall in this corridor, and I catch my eye in it. 

I am definitely taller, though I think the Doctor has stayed the same height. His clothes still fit properly. My hair is longer. Still black, but curly now. My eyes have lightened and look almost green. My features are much sharper this time round, which is new. I’ve always had more rounded features. My hand moves up of its own accord and traces the shape of an arched eyebrow. Another sound from the T-Rex whips me away from the mirror. There are no words in this roar. It’s…it’s almost like a scream.

The door to the bedroom bounces off the wall when I fling it open. There is chalk scrawled all over the walls and floors. The window is open. The Doctor is gone.

“Of course he is.” I mutter to myself, leaning out of the window. The T-Rex is still roaring. By the time I’m downstairs, the others are all gone, the carriage halfway down the road by the time I get to the stables. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” I grab one of Strax’s coats. It’s not quite long enough to reach much further than my knees, but it’ll do. Go out into Victorian London with Emmie’s pastel crop-top and jeans and people will faint and try to arrest me. I hike myself up onto a horse and chase after the carriage. The horse is doing exactly what I want it to do, and soon enough I’m level with Strax as he steers the carriage.

“Miss Tate!” he exclaims, “Something seems to be wrong with the creature!”

“Strax! The Doctor’s gone! I think he’s gone to her!” I shout back. It’s all I say before urging the horse to go faster. “Go left!” I tell it. Then, “Wait, no! No, right! Go right!” I amend, and the horse complains. “Sorry. New hands, I don’t know which one’s which.” oh, the Irish accent is strong with this one.

***

** I’m already sitting in the kitchen when Clara walks in, Strax greeting her as he mops, **

“Ah, Miss Clara! You look better now you’re up.”

“Thank you, Strax.”

“Morning.” I say without quit looking up from my book.

“Top o’ the morning to you too.” Clara says, and I look up to glare at her.

“No, sorry, trick of the light. You still look terrible.” Strax continues, and I can’t quite hide the small snort that escapes me. “Can I get you anything?”

“Er, no, thanks. Maybe just some water.” Clara answers, still untying the newspaper.

“Of course.” Strax bows, then lugs his bucket of mop water up onto the table. She doesn’t exactly look thrilled when she notices it. “Well, don’t hold back, I’ve nearly finished anyway.” Strax tells her as I lift my tea-cup to my lips to disguise the small smile there. Clara falters. “It’s perfectly alright. I washed in it myself.”

“All of a sudden, I’m not very thirsty.” Clara says. I offer her my tea, and she mouths thanks. She only gets a sip or two before,

“Really?” Strax asks, “Perhaps it is time, then…” he pulls out something that looks not unlike a very complicated magnifying glass. It’s green, and it’s making an odd whirring noise. It’s what Strax uses for his medical examinations, but Clara doesn’t know that, and she puts down her tea and newspaper and backs away from him just before he adds, “…for your mandatory medical examination.” green light projects onto Clara’s eye. “Say ah.” Strax instructs, and she does. “You didn’t move your lips.”

“You’re looking at her eye.” I tell Strax.

“Oh. Oh, yes, there we are. Easy mistake.” he moves the light up to her forehead. “Now, that’s interesting.”

“What? What’s interesting?” Clara asks.

“Deflected narcissism, traces of passive aggressive, and a lot of muscular, young men doing sport.”

“What are you looking at?” Clara asks, laughing.

“Your subconscious.” Strax answers. “Is that sport? It could be sport.”

“Well, stop looking.” Clara reaches out and flicks down the section of the examiner that Strax is using. He pulls it back out and moves the green light down her body.

“Moving onto the thorax, such as it is. Ah, excellent. Enviable spleen, well done. Twenty-seven years old, with a projected life-span of exactly-“

“I think we stop there, Strax.” I tell him.

“Oh, she’s going to do quite well. But,” and he speaks directly to Clara again, “watch out for fluid retention later, it’s going to be spectacular. Well, put your clothes back on.”

“They are on.” Clara tells him, and Strax turns to me. I straighten up so the examiner can get accurate results. He’s already examined me, but I think this is just to check that,

“Yes, both hearts doing splendidly, Miss Katrin.” Strax tells me, and I smile and thank him.

“Katrin?” Clara asks, picking up the tea-cup.

“New body, new name.” I tell her. Then,

“Hang on, two heart-“

“Strax, would you mind explaining why you’re examining us?” I cut in quickly.

“If we are to serve together, I need you both in peak physical prowess. Eh?” as he says the last part, he punches Clara, who makes a small noise of pain. This seems to distract her from my hearts.

“Ow! Why would we be serving together? The Doctor’s gonna come back, isn’t he?” Clara asks.

“It is to be hoped.” Strax answers, his eyes going wide.

“Wha…He’s not just gonna abandon me here.” Clara says, and I clear my throat, “Us. Abandon us here.”

“You must stop worrying about him, my boy.” Strax tells her, “By now he’s almost certainly had his throat cut by the violent poor.” he goes on. I widen my own eyes and shake my head. He seems to get the message, “But of course, it is possible he’s still alive.”

“Of course he’s still alive. If he was dead, I’d be dead.” I say. It is part of the curse after all, that when one of dies or regenerates the other does too.

“Is he hurt?” Clara asks, clearly just remembering that other part of the dratted curse that means I can feel when the Doctor’s in pain and vice versa.

“No. No, he’s fine.” I tell her, unsure whether the pain in my head is his or mine from regeneration.

***

** Clara sniffs rather loudly. ** We’ve been sitting for precisely two minutes and forty-three seconds. And I agree, there is a rather unpleasant smell in the air. It’s coming from the Doctor, who has appeared at my side. I hear Clara flapping the newspaper, clearing her throat.

“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asks.

“I don’t know, maybe the smell?”

“I know, it’s everywhere.”

“Where did you get that coat?” I ask, plucking at it.

“Where did you get that hair?”

“Oi.”

“I…uh..I bought it.”

“From where?” Clara asks.

“Er…a shop.”

“No.”

“Might have been a tramp.”

“You don’t have any money, you never have any money.” I say.

“I…I had a watch.”

“No, that watch was beautiful.” Clara says, sounding dismayed.

“It was my favourite.” he admits.

“You swapped your favourite watch for that coat? That’s maybe not a good deal.”

“Well, I was in a hurry, there was a terrible smell-“

“Okay.” Clara says, not sounding very okay. The Doctor tries to laugh, and it comes out wheezy.

“Don’t. Don’t smile. Clara will smile first, and then you will know it is safe to smile.” I tell him, “She’s cross with you.”

“I am not cross.” Clara says, crossly, “But, if I was cross it would be your fault. And…yes, I am cross.”

“I guessed that.” the Doctor says.

“I told you.” I correct.

“I am extremely cross.” Clara says over me.

“And if I hadn’t changed my face, would you be cross?” the Doctor asks.

“I would be cross if I wasn’t cross!” She’s said ‘cross’ too many times now, it hardly sounds like a real English word.

“Why?” the Doctor asks, rather loudly.

“Why?” Clara repeats in a whisper. “An ordinary person wants to meet someone that they know very well for lunch, what do they do?” Clara asks.

“Well, they probably get in touch and suggest lunch. Have you picked a new name yet?” the Doctor speaks quickly, directing his question at me. Clara doesn’t let me answer.

“Mm-hm. Okay, so what kind of person would put a cryptic not in a newspaper advert?”

“Well, I wouldn’t like to say.”

“Oh, go on, do, say.”

“Well, I would say that the person would be an egomaniac, needy, game-player sort of person.” the Doctor answers. I hiss his name, realising the mix-up before either of them do.

“Thank you.” Clara sighs. Then she laughs a little, “Well, at least that hasn’t changed.”

“And I don’t suppose it ever will.”

“No, I don’t suppose it will either.”

“Will you listen to me?” I hiss, louder now. “Doctor, how did you know to come here?”

“Em – Katrin,” Clara starts, stumbling over my name, “He put the advert-“

“Well, I saw the advert in the paper, didn’t I?” the Doctor asks.

“No. No, I didn’t place the ad, you placed the ad.” Clara says.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. You placed the ad, we figured it out. Impossible Girl, see,” she says, holding up the newspaper. “Lunch.”

“No, look, that is a message _from_ the Impossible Girl.”

“ _For_ the Impossible...Girl.” Clara’s words slow, and she and the Doctor make small humming noises.

“Someone’s set us up.” I say.

“Hang on.” Clara says, dropping the newspaper and leaning across me to the Doctor, “Egomaniac, needy, game-player? That was me?”

“Never mind that.” the Doctor tells her.

“Yes, I am minding that.”

“Clara-“

“You were talking about me?”

“Clara!” I cut in.

“What is happening in this restaurant, right now, to the three of us, is more important than your egomania.” the Doctor tells her.

“We should stop using that word.” I say. I’m looking around the restaurant properly now, trying to catch whoever set us up out. There has to be some tell-tale sign. It’s quiet in here. Oh. There it is. Oh dear.

“Nothing is more important than my egomania!” Clara says.

“Right, you actually said that.”

“You never mention that again!” I tune out their arguing until I feel tiny, sharp pain in my scalp. The Doctor has pulled one of my hairs out.

“What’re you going to do with that?” I ask, my hand flying to my head even as the Doctor’s face twitches with the odd sensation of my pain.

“Measuring the air disturbance of the room.” he tells me.

“Right. Moments when you know you are boring.” Clara mutters, as I watch a single curling hair fall slowly to the floor.

***

** “So, have you picked a name yet?”  ** the Doctor asks again.

“Really? Now?” Clara hisses, feet fumbling on the floor to try and reach the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver.

“Katrin. I’m Katrin.” I answer.

“Kat. Yes. Good.” a pause, “You’re Irish.”

“You’re Scottish.”

“Where did you get the eyebrows?”

“Have you seen yours?”

“They’re attack eyebrows!”

“I know!” I tell him. There’s silence between the two of us for a moment as Clara struggles. Then he asks, as if it pains him to say it,

“Do you have your sonic screwdriver?”

“Why, I never thought you’d ask.” I say, smiling insincerely as I reach as far as I can and pull my sonic out of the pocket in my dress. First I aim it at the Doctor’s sonic on the floor so it whips up and into my hand, and then I can undo two of the restraints around each of us at once.

“You should make that thing voice-activated.” Clara tells the Doctor.

“It is.” I tell her as I stand.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

***

** “You’ve redecorated.”  ** I say as I step into the TARDIS. My steps slow as my hand lands on the new stair rail.

“I don’t like it.” Clara says. I look up at the top of the control column. My name is up there, all four of my names, written in Gallifreyan. Clara’s too. Amy, Rory, River, Martha. All the names.

“Not entirely convinced myself.” the Doctor replies, “I think there should be more round things on the walls. I used to have a lot of round things. I wonder where I put them.”

“I really like it.” I say. I catch the Doctor’s odd look and add, “Could do with some more light though.” Clara’s moved to the console as the Doctor turns in his chair and stands. I get another look from him, a subtle one Clara doesn’t pick up on. I cross the floor and go up some steps to a book shelf, a spinning globe in front of it. Not a globe of Earth, I note.

“I’m the Doctor,” he starts, and I can hear him moving down the steps and towards the controls, where Clara is, “I have lived for over two thousand years, and not all of them were good. I’ve made many mistakes, and it’s about time that I did something about that.” he hesitates, “Clara. I’m not your boyfriend.” my hands stop moving over the globe and I look up for a moment. There’s a pane of glass covering one section of the bookshelf. I can see myself and the Doctor reflected in it. An odd, sagging feeling comes over me.

_ You can’t. You can’t do this, Doctor, you’ll die. _

_ And if I don’t, you will. I can’t let that happen, Emmie, I can’t. _

A hand holding my face, fingers interlaced with mine. A promise. Golden light floating up into the air and then diving down, into me.

“I never thought you were.” Clara says, and I’m snapped back to the here and now.

***

** My sonic twitches.  ** It rolls across the wooden surface of the new dresser the TARDIS has painted a soft, dark blue. I reach out to pick it up, find out what’s wrong with it, when something gold shoots out of it. A hologram. 

“Hello, Emmie.”

“Doctor.” I’m moving already, towards him, my hand moving up to reach for his face. He’s never left me a message for post-regeneration before.

“Can you say that again, I’m trying to place the accent.”

“Doctor.”

“Irish. _Irish._ ” the Doctor says, and he sounds rather pleased. He smiles, just for a second, and his hands do their little nervous dance. Hesitation, then, “Did someone choose a name for you?” he asks, and I nod. “What is it?”

“Katrin. Madame Vastra chose it.” I tell him, and again he smiles, but just for a second. His breathing is laboured, as if he’s in pain.

“I like it.” he tells me.

“Doctor? Where are you?” I ask.

“I…we’re on Trenzalore. I can feel it, Kat, I know it’s coming. We’re going to change and I just…I just wanted to see…you.” the Doctor tells me. There’s silence for a moment. “The new me. What’s he like?”

“Spoilers.” I tell him.

“He’s old, isn’t he?”

“Spoilers.” I insist.

“Clara’ll tell me.” he says decisively.

“He’ll take getting used to, just like the rest of you did. Clara’s…not adjusting quite so well.”

“He’ll need you, Kat, he needs both of you. No matter how much things change, I will always need your help.” he’s watching me carefully as he says this.

“No you won’t.” I say.

“I think I will.” he replies. His head turns quickly, and then he looks back at me, and I know this is it. The end of Emmie, and of this Doctor.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” I say, and I can’t quite stop the odd thickness of voice that comes with tears. The Doctor smiles again, and I try my best to smile back, but it’s teary. His hand goes out to me, as mine did to him. He wants to wipe the tears away, but of course he can't. He's just a hologram, about to flicker out of existence.

“Goodbye, Emmie.”


End file.
